


Alternate Endings

by Crowley_Is_My_Copilot



Series: Dark Harlan [6]
Category: Justified
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowley_Is_My_Copilot/pseuds/Crowley_Is_My_Copilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles showcasing a few of the possible endings to Boyd Crowder and Miczariel's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternate Endings

**Author's Note:**

> This relationship is based of a RP that has been running for over a year. I'm quite fond of it and have been considering writing works for them but have been too shy to do so. This is the first one I felt comfortable with sharing, a way of testing the waters. I have no idea what this formatting is. Feedback is always appreciated.

**I.**  
_ext. harlan county_

She knew it would happen, always had, from day one. The mess she had gotten entangled in - willingly - was insidious as an oil slick, deadly as a mine collapse. But she had stayed out of loyalty and love and now the reason for her lingering was gone.

One bullet, that’s all it had took. All it ever took. Something about the fragility of man. God, she hated those kinds of sayings. Had hated them, had come to love them when spoken from his mouth, hated them again now that she would never hear them from him.

Some people needed closure - to see a body all laid out - but she couldn’t even think about it. Seeing him lifeless would be the antithesis of the memories she wanted to keep. There were other ways for something like her to gain closure.

Curling her toes, feeling the grass under her feet, she breathed in the night air tinged with smoke. The heat from the fire was fading, only a caress where it had been a brutal embrace. She didn’t mind.

The pizza parlor was next.

By morning, there was a haze of smoke over Harlan.

 **II.**  
_ext. tramble penitentiary_

When she had heard the news, she had been surprised. It hadn’t ended the way she thought it would. Oh the dynamite thrown in pursuit had been in the realm of expected but she had never pegged Boyd Crowder for the taken alive sort.

Not that she was disappointed. If any ending involved him alive and safe, she would take it. Her part in the picture didn’t matter, not anymore. Sometimes, standing there looking at the building, she thought about going inside and sitting on the other side of the glass, asking him how he was. Trying not to ask why he didn’t come tell her what he was planning on.

But she had promised to stay out of it.

Turning the pocket watch over in her hands, the sunlight and the heat of her hands warming the metal. It made her smile, eyes tinged with sadness. If she kept it warm, it would be like holding him. That was a lie she could tell herself. Just like she could tell herself that she came here, watched over him, out of loyalty and promises to be kept and not longing.

Sometimes, she wondered if he knew.

 **III.**  
_ext. porch, house outside of fargo, ND_  
~~*version stamped for theatrical release~~

A high-pitched screech of delight broke the silence of the morning as Mic blew onto her cup of coffee, the action not needed but habitual. Still playing human like she was now playing lover and mother. The roles hadn’t come naturally but they fit now and she wouldn’t change it, not for anything.

The little girl ran up the stairs, squealing, followed by the heavy, exaggerated footsteps of her father, fingers curled in a facsimile of a monster. It made Mic smile.

“Careful,” she said, pulling the mug towards her chest, as the girl tried to hide behind her, eyes alight with amusement. A kiss was placed on her cheek.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She swatted his arm, the girl using the distraction to once more gain a head start, taking off into the house, her call of ‘you can’t catch me’ echoing throughout the rooms. Mic inclined her head towards the door.

“Go get her.”

Then the chase was on again and Mic started to follow inside, pausing to look out across the field, the empty road. Sometimes the paranoia and fear from all those years before weighed on her, danger looming over, but she shook the feelings away.

There had been many ways the story could have gone, she knew, and it wasn’t over yet.


End file.
